


Firearms and Love Letters

by FreakCityPrincess



Series: Different Versions [2]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalyptic, Badass zombie-killing Jyn, But it gets better I swear, Character Death, Developing trust, F/M, Graphic depictions of character injury, Graphic depictions of violence - Freeform, Heavy Angst, Hope, Mutual Pining, Partnership based on necessity, Survival, Tragic Character Backstories, Zombie Apocalypse, and a low-key romantic who listens to savage garden, angst and trust and feels, but there’s a lot of sadness, cassian is a nerd who listens to pink floyd, comic book artist!cassian, medical mumbo-jumbo, rated for the things mentioned in the tags, referenced character death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-07-14 10:16:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16038404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreakCityPrincess/pseuds/FreakCityPrincess
Summary: When he finds her, the skin of her knees is broken and her eyes are close to bleeding with grief, but she’s quick on her feet and he’s soon staring down the barrel of a gun.”I’m not infected,” he says, lowering his own firearm in a gesture of peace.The plastic flower in her hair does nothing to curb the effect of her terrible snarl.”I’m not taking any more risks.”Jyn is trying to run away from a recurring nightmare. Cassian is singularly responsible for executing his friend’s dying wish. Together, they have slightly better odds of surviving the brutal hours after dark.





	1. the hand that holds the gun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gloriouswhisperstyphoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloriouswhisperstyphoon/gifts).



> For Chris, in exchange for The Girl with the Stardust Tattoo. The negotiations were short, and we can finally give you, the fandom, two brand new multichaptered fics!
> 
> Although you’re probably going to hate me for this one. I apologise in advance for the heavy dosage of angst that will follow.

There was a series of loud thuds as Jyn lifted and pulled down the trip switch, and the long spaces between the aisles lit up under the blue lights overhead.

The shelves were semi-stocked, though she couldn’t be certain how good any of the foodstuff would be by this point; the tiles were dirty, long-since unattended, and yellow patches of leaked water stained the ceiling. The air was stale and stuffy, the supermarket having being under lock-and-key for God knew how long, but what mattered was that the lights worked, and that they could scrounge up enough rations to last them a few weeks.

“Bless the rains down in Africa!” declared Bodhi, a brilliant smile on his face. The lighting was good enough that she could see his dimple, at least. “They have Cheetos!”

Jyn reached out to grab his wrist before he could run down the aisle.

“Don’t forget to check,” she said tersely, feeling none of his uninhibited delight. Yes, it was good that they’d managed to break their way in. But it was already five in the evening, and the light of the sun outside was starting to die out faster than it should have. They hadn’t made it this far by being careless; the dying noon was a sign that they had to pack up and secure themselves.

Bodhi rolled his eyes, exasperation mixed with fondness as he gently freed himself. “Okay, _mom._ ”

She followed him seconds after he stopped by a shelf, the unabashed grin back on his face as he peered through the contents, flashlight in hand.

It wasn’t necessary to check for traces of the Infection on non-living things, Jyn knew. Least of all polythene and packaging. The virus didn’t spread through touch; only prolonged exposure to the saliva of an Infected, and it had to infuse living tissue. Still. She couldn’t afford even a trivial risk.

Which was why, watching the sky turn slowly darker from a bit of window exposed over the top of a shelf, Jyn felt her digits tremble slightly, curled her fingers into fists.

“Clean.” Bodhi swiped three packs off the shelf, turning to tuck them into his worn brown side-bag. The fabric was flaking and the straps looked thinner than they used to be. Jyn made a mental note of scavenging for clothes next.

“Alright, let’s get out of here.” She drew out the gun at her belt. Not necessary, yet, but her nerves were on edge. How had she miscalculated the time so badly? These days, this season…

Bodhi spared a glance at the exposed strip of sky. His brows dripped in confusion, first, then raised a little in realisation. “It’s going to rain.”

So that was why- Jyn shook her head, stepping in front of him, her gun in her right hand and lowered at her side. She moved forward with brisk efficiency, but quiet- the supermarket was lit, should be bright enough, they might just be safe inside- while Bodhi adopted a more leisurely pace.

Her worry was probably for nothing. He knew. He had to be thinking the same, that this building was safe, and possibly safer than it could be out there.

Jyn paused before the end of the aisle and drew in a shallow breath, closing her eyes. All the lights were on. It was blue light, not the wisest of choices for a place people were supposed to shop in, but brighter than the skies or the pavements outside.

“We’re safe,” Bodhi said, smiling slightly. She tucked the gun back in and returned his smile, feeling a tad sheepish but not ungrateful.

“Should probably stay away from the windows, though.”

He shrugged, nodding. “Good idea. Let’s head back in.”

Jyn followed as he looked for a corner that was completely hidden from the view of the windows. They ended up in a section with budget gardening tools- scissors, rubber boots, watering jars, baskets- and colourful plastic flowers.

It would not be the strangest place they’d spent the night.

She shrugged her backpack off before herself sliding to the floor, crossing her knees at her chest and leaning against the wall while she watched Bodhi curiously look through the shelves in front of her.

He bent to pluck one of the plastic flowers, and when he turned around, Jyn recognised his expression as pain, not regret.

Her throat went dry at the sight of the blood-red shoeflower he twirled between his fingers.

_Memories of a previous life flashed behind her eyes. Two children in a large garden, soaked to the bone by a wild hose, and a tall man with kind eyes who chided them gently for their misbehaviour. White anthuriums and pristine roses framed the open space, and red shoeflowers bloomed in clay pots suspended from the door of a tiny toolshed._

“I…” Bodhi faltered. “I wish we could go back. To, you know. Home. Before we moved here.”

Jyn had heard that the countryside was hit by the Infection, too, but she would welcome its clear skies and warm days more than the filthy gutters of a cramped urban district. She hated this place. Everything had only gone to hell after they’d moved in.

She wanted to see their parents again, too. She wanted...but there was no point wanting.

All that lay within their sights was the immediate future, now.

Bodhi dropped to the floor beside her. He still had the flower in his hands. She held her breath.

Tenderly, so tenderly, her adopted brother tucked the plastic adornment into her hair, a fraction above her right ear.

“It’s a good look on you,” he commented, eyes crinkling around the corners. Her heart ached, but it also soared a little. She had him. There was nothing for either of them in the world outside, the streets were infested and filthy, and their parents were long gone- but she had him, her family, her anchor, and she didn’t think she needed much else.

Jyn tucked the stem under a hairpin, fixing it in place. “ Anything’s a good look on me.”

Bodhi opened his mouth to retort, a grin ticking his lips, but there was a crash and a bang somewhere in the distance and they froze.

Her heart thudded erratically in her chest as she scrambled to her feet, and Bodhi was up in no time, eyes wide and disturbed. He blindly fiddled for the gun at his hip, taking a few shaky steps back, coming closer to her side.

She held her own gun out with both hands and kept as still as possible. Bodhi tried to mimic her strategy, but he was breathing too fast.

The supermarket was quiet.

Jyn tried to hear everything that stirred against the silence.

Another _clang_ as something else hit the floor, closer this time. A thud. The sound of something rolling, and then hitting metal.

Bodhi looked at her over his shoulder, fear scrambled across his face.

_Cans,_ he mouthed, because his auditory senses were good, and yes, he was right; it had to be in the aisle for canned foodstuffs, or drinks. Jyn didn’t remember where that was. She’d made a mental layout of the place’s exits, but not its goods, _oh god…_

He nodded so imperceptibly, she almost missed it.

He knew where that was. He knew where it was, and probably also a path they could take to go around it. Sticking to this corner, with no way out, was not an option either. 

Bodhi lead the way this time, taking care to be quiet, and Jyn followed close behind him. They both had their guns drawn with both hands. Jyn caught something from the edge of her left eye as they stepped out of the isolation of their corner.

The lights along the second aisle in the row were flickering.

Beyond that it was totally dark, and she could make out the shape of cans and bottles on the floor.

They stepped behind a shelf for pet products, Bodhi turning so they were back-to-back.

Once upon a time, Jyn had been a brave girl. But that was before their lives depended on how she fought, and the reason she fought now was not to win martial arts medals or put a man who couldn’t handle rejection in his place. The Jyn of today didn’t take risks for the sake of it, to ride the high of getting away with a stupid decision. She was hard-wired to be precautious, now; almost as if precaution had always been in her blood.

She angled her head to a side, listening. Carefully listening.

Behind her, Bodhi swallowed.

The noise of scrambling, a sudden metallic _clang_ , and a pained, half-formed rasp of breath, somewhere nearby.

Behind her.

Jyn stepped around Bodhi fast, putting herself in between him and any threat. Her hands didn’t tremble on the gun. She’d calmed her breathing, _in and out_ , quiet, slow. From here she could see the exit they’d broken in through, could see the dark skies outside, and- rain. It was raining.

They weren’t safe anywhere.

Jyn peered into the aisle between the two shelves they were about to walk across. The lights on this one were working.

The lights on the next one over were not.

There wasn’t much of a distance left to cross to reach the doors, but Jyn felt well and truly trapped. There was no sanctuary outside those doors.

She surveyed the space around them before striding forward.

It slammed into her side.

Jyn found balance on her feet quickly, hissing a curse as she kicked at the leathery mass of flesh that clung to her. Up close it smelt like rotting meat and _fuck,_ its eyes, its naked scalp and open mouth-

She brought her gun around the side and fired twice at the head.

The Infected screeched, high-pitched, _animalistic,_ before it lost its grip on her. Jyn kept firing and didn’t stop. She could hear Bodhi panting expletives with every breath.

The once-human lay sprawled on the floor, bullet-ridden in every vulnerable spot.

“Fuck,” Jyn hissed, ducking her head. “Fuck.”

Bodhi was on her in a heartbeat. “Are you hurt? Jyn, I-“

She shoved him off, fast. “Don’t touch me! Do you want to get infected?”

Her brother frowned, but he stepped back. Jyn could see his chest rising and falling too fast to be entirely calm. “It didn’t mark you.”

“Yes, I-I know.” Jyn gritted her teeth. “But you can’t be so reckless. Come on, let’s go.”

They threw caution to the wind in favour of running for the exit.

What Jyn learned next would be a lesson that stuck with her for the rest of her natural life. To never abandon precaution, even when you believed the danger was past. To never take the possibility of the next few seconds for granted in an infection-ridden world.

A second Infected slammed sideways into the cashier counter right before the exit.

Jyn skidded to a stop, grabbing Bodhi by the hand to stop him. She shoved him behind her back without preamble, firing at the screeching creature with her free hand. Wretched, relentless screams opened its jaws to breaking point as bullets riddled the tattered shirt over its chest and ribs, and Bodhi was swearing in his native language, which he rarely spoke, and the _fucking thing_ wasn’t dying or shutting up.

It attracted the attention of more. Jyn’s finger drew out of the trigger guard as she watched in abjected horror as four more of them- _four_ \- started to languidly paw at the glass from outside, in the dark, in the rain.

The unlocked door, closed but easily pushed open, was less than an arm’s length away from the glass that kept them at bay.

Jyn grabbed the knife she kept in her boot and speared it at the screaming creature’s throat. Her aim was precise - _never misses, says the voice of a close family friend, now dead or infected, with pride; I’ve trained her too well, Lyra_ \- and it finally crumbled to the floor, flailing without a voice, breathing raggedly.

The others were scrambling over each other to get through the glass. Their only way out was too close to the flock.

“Stay here,” said Jyn quietly, never taking her eyes off the horde.

“Jyn-” started Bodhi, but she tightened her grip on his wrist and whispered more quietly.

“I’m going to jam that door. You’re going to wait here. If anything happens, turn that way and run.”

Bodhi’s sharp intake of breath stang her still-sensitive ears. “What? No. No way. I’m not...I’m coming with you.”

“If you want this plan to work,” Jyn dipped her chin, slightly, “You’ll do exactly as I say. Okay?”

He swallowed. “Jyn. Please. I don’t- I won’t run away if anything...if they try to get you. I’m here for you. You need someone...watching your back.”

“Watch my back from a distance,” Jyn called, keeping her eyes trained ahead as she asked forward with purpose. She headed right for where the horde was pressed against the glass, never once angling her body toward the doors to give herself away, to give them a clue. The Infected pawing outside grew decidedly more violent as she neared, scrambling over one another, knocking their wrinkled foreheads against the glass. It rattled, resonated, but Jyn knew the glass would hold. It was not her first concern.

Jyn came close enough to cause a furious scratching and banging at the glass, close enough that she could see the death-coloured skin and rotting teeth of the monsters that were once people. Wide and maddened eyes conveying little to the brain, leathery throats and jaws that hung from a raw stretch of exoskeleton. Clothes that were torn and tattered and disfigured, the only telltale that these creatures had once had minds of their own, had been like her or Bodhi, with families and personal effects.

It was pathetic, and it was terrifying, and she would rather die than be turned into one of them. Would rather die than let either happen to her brother.

She took a side-step to the other direction to mislead them. They clamoured hungrily to the side like it would give them better access.

Slowly, carefully, Jyn pinched a coin in her pocket with two fingers, drawing it out.

She made a show of throwing it all the way across the long glass barrier.

Jyn made her move soon after the four- no, five now, or six- crawled fast to follow after it, over the pavements, only mildly inconvenienced my the heavy rain. She slammed her knee into the door, holding it in place and praying they wouldn’t turn back yet as she fiddled with the bicycle lock that had previously kept the supermarket shut. Not a bicycle lock, but that was the closest familiar thing it resembled to Jyn, and she had broken it when they’d made their way in here.

Jyn worked fast, her mind supplying ideas that were immediately executed, no matter how uncertain the end result and the effectiveness was. She removed her scarf to twist it around the door handle and frame, tying a tight knot reinforced several times. She swiped the small tube of superglue from her pocket, smeared it between the interlocking rubber of the door and the frame before fully closing it and pushing the two together.

She stepped away from the door before the horde found its way again.

Bodhi caught her as she was about to stumble backwards.

“Superglue?” he questioned.

It wouldn’t hold up. There was no way it would hold up, it had been an unfeasible and stupid idea, but she couldn’t repair the lock in record time, and right now she felt more afraid than she remembered ever being.

“Yeah,” she rasped, then fixed her voice. “Yeah. We need to get the fuck out of here.”

“What other breakout tools are you hiding in those pockets?” asked Bodhi, and in spite of everything she felt herself smiling. She didn’t know how he managed to wrangle a smile out of her in the worst situations.

“We have to go in,” she said, already stepping back, noticing with a mix of relief and uncertainty that the Infected outside- _shit, numbering seven-_ seemed to be growing tired, and nowhere near her poorly-reinforced door.

Bodhi faltered. “It’s...it’s dark inside.”

Jyn switched her torch on. It was a thin beam, but bright and yellow- the Infected hated bright, and they hated yellow light even more. The tiny torch wouldn’t save them, but there couldn’t be many more inside. They’d heard no noises from inside, and the ones they’d encountered had probably come in through the door. Of course, it was entirely possible that the building hosted a few, given that the electricity hadn’t been used in ages, but the Infected preferred much smaller spaces. If they made it back to power grid, got the place lit up again- then maybe they’d be fine.

Going by Bodhi’s mental layout of the supermarket, they took the cereal aisle, the direct route to the back where the power grid clung to the wall.

Jyn started flipping switches as soon as they made it, cursing her limited knowledge under her breath and recalling every step she’d followed to get it working before. Their father had taught them a lot of things- at five, Jyn was climbing ladders to paint walls and Bodhi was making sculptures out of wire. At six she’d started her first martial arts class and Bodhi had taken up karting. But neither of them had ever learnt to work an electrical circuit, or to deal with it when the lights went out in the house.

“Trip switch,” said Bodhi, but he was restless and didn’t sound certain, the beam in his fingers shaking.

Jyn lifted and dropped the lever, got a loud _thud_ for her efforts, but no lights. Fuck, was the place cut off from power completely?

“Jyn.”

She slammed her fists against the board, anger and frustration and a torcherous feeling of dread pounding at her temples, settling low in the pit of her stomach.

“Jyn.”

She barely registered the tremor, or the urgency, in Bodhi’s voice.

“We need to think of something.” She squeezed her eyes shut, leaning defeatedly against the board. “We need to… _fucking hell._ ”

“Jyn, the torch isn’t working.”

Her eyes flew open, panicked, because _no, no fucking way,_ this was not happening, but- Bodhi’s features were indiscernible in the dark, and she could only make out the faint outline of his profile, and the eluding darkness behind him.

There was no blue-black light anymore. Only black, all around them.

She reached for him. Instinctively, she reached for him, because she had to put herself in between him and anything that would harm him-

And a hand gripped her ankle.

Cursing loudly, Jyn violently pulled away, aiming her gun down and firing short bursts. She couldn’t see, and it was loud, much too loud, and-

“ _Help!_ ”

Despite the creature at her feet started to draw itself up, her world narrowed down to sound of Bodhi’s voice, nearby but too far out of reach, in the darkness that let her see nothing.

Jyn slammed the open end of her gun into the Infected’s forehead, firing at point blank range.

She ignored the mess it made, ignored the splatters that struck her face, and ran towards the noise of scrambling and panic. Gunshots and screeches. Rattling shelves.

Jyn found the mess of limbs and screeches outlined in the dark and shot, kept right on shooting, not backing down even when the creature scrambled off Bodhi and leapt at her. 

Her boot connected with its chest as soon as it got too close. She kicked back with enough force to send it hurtling onto the empty part of the floor.

Bodhi was trying to lift himself up on his hands, body wrecked with tremors, but at least he was alive. At least he was…

She fired at the writhing Infected. Fired until it stopped trying to get back up. Jyn felt sick and unclean, aware of the noise that rang in her ears and the blood sprayed across her face.

She dropped by Bodhi’s side as soon as she could.

“Bodhi? Bodhi, look at me.”

She couldn’t remember ever having sounded as breathless, as afraid. Her heart jackhammered in her chest, almost painfully.

He turned his head to face her, his eyes wide and bloodshot, tears welling in what little she could see. “ _Jyn._ ”

“I’m here, Bodhi.” She swallowed, a wave of nausea rolling over her. “It’s okay. Can you get up? We have to go, we have to get out of here.”

Bodhi groaned softly, pinching his eyes shut. “Leg.”

Jyn’s gaze flickered to his legs, which she could only see because they were against the white tiles.

Every muscle in her body locked up.

The trousers of his right leg had been shredded until a long way up, and beneath the rags she could see blood. Blood on the tiles, smearing from an open wound on his kneecap, and bleeding scratches down his thigh. She suspected she couldn’t see the worst of it given the dark, but it looked bad. It looked…

Her throat was dry, constricted. “Did it…?”

Bodhi shook his head fast. “No. I mean, I don’t think so. It...it was mostly just scratching.”

But the Infected used their teeth in tandem with their claws, they both knew it, but Jyn didn’t want to dwell on the worst case scenario now. They had to get out of here. Once they were safe, or as safe as possible, she was going to examine that leg and clean it up.

“Okay. Okay, Bodhs, I need you to get up. Can you do that?”

Bodhi was on the verge of replying when they heard shelves rattling again, what had to be two aisles over.

“Go,” he choked, and the tears were obvious now. “Jyn, go.”

“Are you nuts?” she hissed through her teeth, moving to haul him by the arms. “Get up, quick, we have to go.”

“I...I can’t.” His eyes were wide and watery, white and red in the dying light from outside. “My leg is broken.”

She cursed under her breath, putting even more strength into lifting him up, but he was...he was making it difficult. “Bodhi!”

“Jyn, _please._ ” His voice broke on a sob. “I’ll only slow you down. Please go. Run.”

She could feel her own eyes stinging, but she couldn’t believe this, and she was stubborn- she was going to get her way. “Get up now or we’re both going to die.”

Bodhi looked so pained and guilt-stricken in that moment that she almost took it back, but he stopped shifting his weight, and she could get him off the ground now in three, two…

An Infected stood at the other end of the aisle, blocking their way out, tilting its head curiously to the side.

Jyn’s hand went for her gun, only to close around thin air in its place.

The knife in her boot was gone, too.

A familiar shape pushed into her palm, and she looked down to find Bodhi passing her his gun.

He curled his fingers around hers, around the magazine well. Their fingers trembled.

Jyn choked back a sob and forced herself to her feet, clutching the steel grill of a shelf for support. Her entire being felt numb even as she extended her arms with the firearm.

She realised, belatedly but not surprisingly, that there were half a dozen Infected inside the building, all concentrated around them. Either her ploy with door hadn’t worked, or the bastards had always been lurking here. Jyn was still a distance away because they were competing, but the competition was growing violent, while many were starting to forget each other and really shift their focus to the only conscientious humans in the room.

Bodhi dragged himself back using his arms and elbows. His right leg moved like deadweight. Jyn couldn’t imagine the amount of pain he was in right now, but pain coupled together with fear and the promise of nearing death-

There would be no death today if she had her way. She would get them out of this, like she’d done before, and she would take him home, and they’d figure out how to deal with that leg.

Her heart lurched to her throat when the thought crossed her mind that she was lying to herself.

No. No, they were going to make it.

She fired off loud, blind shots at the Infected that trudged toward them, at the ones that crawled and at the ones that moved fast on all fours. She had to look over her shoulder to get a few. It hindered them, but they didn’t stop, and Bodhi was screaming now and bile was rising in her throat.

“ _Jyn,_ ” she heard him shout, panic painfully evident in ever decibel of his voice. “Jyn, please go! You can turn around, go now, please, please, please!”

“No!” she yelled, not taking her eyes off the horde because she couldn’t, not if she wanted to save them, to get out of this mess, go home-

“Please,” Bodhi begged, his grip tight at the hem of her trousers. “Please, shoot me, I don’t want to turn-”

“ _Fuck!_ ” screamed Jyn, and she ripped her eyes away from the threat just so she could look him the eyes and spell how _stupid_ that was. “You’re not going to fucking turn! I’m going to get your ass out of here, shut up!”

“Jyn.” The tears were as liquid as sweat in his eyes. His voice was quieter, and he was using that reasonable, that damn _diplomatic_ tone he employed with her when she was being stubborn...but his breaths were rife with effort. “For the first time in your life, listen. We can’t both make it. You can. If you love me-”

She was trembling now, her entire body, and she felt so weak that she nearly dropped the gun. “S-Shut up.”

Bodhi looked apologetic but sincere, and calm like a man who’d resigned himself to his fate. “If you love me, Jyn, you’ll shoot me, and then you’ll get the hell away from here.”

One of the Infected leapt at them. She wasn’t fast enough, and its nails drew long marks on her arms before she screeched and kicked it in the chest. She shot at the rest that were too close, now. They had cluttered up the narrow space of the aisle, and they were blocking each other, but it was only a matter of time before they effectively pushed through.

She looked down at the Bodhi, and she couldn’t even see him through the tears in her eyes.

“No,” she whimpered, a beg, a plea to the universe and everything in it to turn this nightmare into nothing but a bad dream that she would wake up from.

“It’s the only way,” said Bodhi softly, and she couldn’t stand upright anymore. She fell to her knees.

Her brother’s embrace was warm, and familiar, and this was the last time she’d feel it.

He tucked back a wild strand of her hair, spoke close to her ear so only she could hear him.

“Thank you.”

Jyn felt numb. The words sounded distant.

“I’m so sorry for making you do this,” whispered Bodhi. “I’m so sorry. But I don’t want to turn. You have to go.”

She nodded, barely even registering it. Bodhi’s free hand wrapped around the gun in hers, pressed the open end to his chest.

Jyn didn’t know if he pulled the trigger or she did, on accident, because they were swarmed then in the horde and a mass of clawing, sharp, leathery limbs and fingers, of blood, saliva and a foul stench that made her stomach coil.

She faintly noted that the swarm started to divert from her, to Bodhi’s unresisting form on the floor, and the moment she saw it, the moment her eyes caught on the first Infected that ripped at his face, she turned around and ran.

She ran faster and harder than she’d even run in her life, only so she could get away from the nightmare, wanting so badly to escape and to avoid the bloody conclusion.

Even the pummelling rain couldn’t shake the sound of that single gunshot from her ears.


	2. song for someone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your support, here’s the second chapter at long last!
> 
> Chapter title is a U2 song that I love. Chapter may also include gratuitous appreciation of a certain Pink Floyd track, complete with lyrics. Enjoy!

_To Cassian._

_If you are reading this, it is because you have followed my instructions and gone through the USB I left behind, in case exactly this situation transpires._

_I want you to carefully go through what I have to say. If this letter, and the encrypted documents I have saved under the folder titled with your name, don’t disclose enough information for you to work with, you’re welcome to view the personal video logs of my time spent with Empire._

_And if you are reading this, it is because I cannot be present to ask for your help in person, and am likely dead or infected- though I imagine you would view both situations the same way. But you can, at least, survive with my research for Empire, and this is one of two things I ask. The other is that you get my files to the persons they have been addressed to. Given time, there is a good chance they will be able to synthesise a cure for the virus, but the process will be set back several years without the information in those files._

_As I am at this point unable to say anything in person, I will write what I have to say in this letter. Please do not be upset. I infinitely prefer you being the one to survive rather than I. Firstly because you deserve to survive, and secondly because I have faith that you will do with the research what I would have done._

_I cannot understand to this day why you chose to be my friend, but I am nevertheless grateful that you did. I admit that I never felt the need for social interaction or any kind of company before I met you. You taught me how to be human, even if I haven’t been an enthusiastic learner._  

_I remember thinking, what can a chemist and an artist have in common? The answer, to this day, is nothing. Although you surprisingly shared the same proficiency in figures, which I still do not understand, I will take your word for it that ‘not everything is black and white’, and a chemist and an artist forced to live in close quarters can indeed forge a bond._

_I thank you for your friendship and willingness to support this chemist’s endeavours. Please don’t smugly think of the tshirt I wore at your first book launch. You have already brought that up too many times. I would like to remind you that I wore the merchandise out of a sense of moral obligation, and not, as you put it, because of my ‘secret love for Ilse’. Ilse is not even my most preferred character. As I have told you many times, she is a one-dimensional and often annoying personality that you’ve only used to fill space in the panels. You should instead be proud of characters like Maxim and Tristan. I still believe their origin stories as standalone comics would sell._

_The world will need time to heal, certainly, but I want you to be there while it heals. You have to survive this dark patch in history and get the data to someplace it can be used for the benefit of mankind, so that we may learn to curb the virus and the world gets a chance to heal. I ask that you survive first, then live as much as you can- meet someone, start a family if you want to, keep giving the world good stories and commendable characters._

_And, who can tell, maybe you’ll even illustrate my story someday?_

_If I believed in luck, I would wish you the best of luck. As chance and probability is how we make sense of luck with numbers, I instead wish you the best probability of survival, Cassian._

_With regards,_

_your friend Kay._ _  
_

 

Cassian hadn’t heard music in a very long time. Between running for his life and scavenging a rabid world for safe food, he’d forgotten what it was like to need the simpler pleasures in life.

That is not to say, however, that Cassian had forgotten what music sounded like.

He had a decent enough auditary memory to play favourite tracks in his head, creating a safe space where the noise didn’t cut him off from the outside world. Working hours for him had almost always been backdropped by the faulty speakers of an old JBL that erupted into lines of static every now and then, ruining the perfect background vocals of _Somebody to Love_ or the _November Rain_ guitar sequence. His work environment had usually earned endless complaints from his roommate, who he knew for certain had learned to tune it out, before Kay had moved out, taking a flight to some remote part of the world where some unfortunate products of a new virus were being studied.

On the rare occasions he deemed it safe, Cassian hummed under his breath, or sometimes muttered the words of songs he knew, just to hear a human voice, real and unimagined in his ears. Without the occasional reminder, it felt like madness was creeping up on him, loosening his hold on reality. It felt like he was well and truly _alone,_ here in this city swarming with Freaks.

Morning light poured in bucketfuls into the open rooms of the now-abandoned flat complex, and Pink Floyd had started playing in his head. Here in the brilliant light of day, the creaking floors and the paint peeling off the walls failed to be foreboding, and it didn’t feel dangerous to softly hum along under his breath. He navigated the spacious living area and pantry (thankful that the walls held no memoirs of whoever who’d lived here before) while weaving trip-wires across every room entrance. Connected to an alarm that had saved his life on previous occasions, and he’d have a new base of operations.

That was how he liked to think of these temporary sanctuaries, anyway, rather than a hidey-hole from the once-human atrocities that roamed the streets outside when it was dark. He had also chosen the second-to-topmost floor because it provided the protection of locked doors and a small balcony with stairs that led to the rooftop, and consequently thereafter an external fire escape. It was a good place to find himself in. The viable strategy here was to keep the doors locked at all times, and for him to make his entries and exits via the rooftop escape. Freaks couldn’t make their way up ladders. Ladders were a puzzle to their motor functions, and they lacked the precision necessary to firmly hold and make their way up rung after rung.

 _According to Kay, and he studied them._  

Cassian would always have his doubts- unpredictable things happened, sometimes fiction became fact- but other than those exceptions he knew he could trust the knowledge his friend had left behind, specifically catered to his survival. Kay had never made uncalculated guesses.

He willed away the sudden stinging sensation behind his eyes, pushing thoughts of Kay from his head. Later. Or, preferably, not at all, because grief didn’t help you focus, and it didn’t get you through the day. This lingering heartache would not carry him past the overrun barricade blocking his path to a better world. 

He had to get past it. He’d been trying, ever since he’d found himself alone, a sole survivor left behind after the city’s evacuation, staring down a wall built to keep the Freaks in. Or out, originally, but he couldn’t be certain anymore. The city was so overrun that it was hard to believe they hadn’t originated from within.

_We don’t need no education._

One and a half months. He’d been on his own for one and a half months, judging by the tally he kept, living on scavenged food and blessed electricity and a morsel of hope that could barely sustain him by this point. He had searched for other exits, traveled lengths to find other ways out of the cage he’d found himself trapped in, but he’d always had to come back here. Always had to come back and stare at that stupid wall, that stupid barricade of heavy stone and cement and barbed wire beyond the rubble of a building that housed what looked like a colony of Freaks.

_We don’t need no thought control._

He was worn, and drained, and sick of it. The letters, the laptop and the data drives buried at the bottom of his survival kit were the only reasons he still kept trying.

_No dark sarcasm in the classroom._

Those, and the memory of a friend he had to honour. 

_Teacher leave ‘em kids alone._

Cassian set down the bundle of wire in his hands, alarm and trap fully in place now, before carefully making his way to the half-shut window. Though it he could see the broad street of which this building was the first, the abandoned little diner across- and over the rooftops beyond he could make out the collapsed structure and the depressing gray colour of the wall.

_All in all, you’re just another brick in the wall._

He was getting good at this, he thought. Even the background music was coming to him, and he could even faintly discern the additional sounds of the song’s video; a mocking professor, a gaggle of laughing children…

_All in all, you’re just another brick in the wall._

Cassian stilled, his fingers going still where they’d been drumming the windowsill.

_Hey! Teacher!_

Every muscle in his body locked up, tensed, and twisted.

_Leave ‘em kids alone!_

He jumped back from the window as though it had burned him. He stared blank, wide-eyed, as his head spun with the realisation that the music was _not in his head._

Cassian almost tripped over a wire in his incoherent haste to get to the door. It was coming from outside. Behind the door. Behind the door that he’d planned, for safety’s sake, to never open again. He cursed, dropping to his knees and scrabbling to disassemble the sensor that would go off if the door were to open. He couldn’t get it done fast enough. Outside, the music was louder. The corridors darker than the safe insides of the flat and absolutely empty. 

His eyes darted toward the cream-coloured door he knew had to be leading up from the stairs. That was where it was coming from. 

 _I’m imagining it. I’m going mad._  

He started a brisk walk toward it, drawing his gun from its holster at his belt. He wasn’t sure of what he was doing, if this was the right way to respond to the situation. Stopped, free hand an inch from the knob, firearm held with trembling fingers in the other.

 _Don’t,_ said Kay’s voice, startlingly clear, familiarly admonishing in his ears. _This is going to be how you die._

He should listen. Kay’s voice was always laced with reason, a guide to follow when he couldn’t rely on his own thoughts, and one that had yet to fail him. As weird as the situation was, he wasn’t safe, and he should listen.

But what the _fuck_ was Pink Floyd doing behind that door?

Cassian turned the knob and heaved it open and heard a bullet go off.

Somebody grunted. Something solid hit against a wall, something cracked, something clattered down the stairs. Two more gunshots, echoing in the dark stairwell just hidden from his vision. And music coming from an MP3 player, he was certain of it, because it was loud and the quality was crap and _what the everloving mother of-_

He followed the human instinct to find out for himself.

The stairwell was almost pitch dark, broad in some places and narrow at the edges, and he almost fled then because there were _Freaks_. Four- yes, four of them, but two were down, and the other two were being wrestled off by a girl who looked very much human.

A sentient. He hadn’t seen another being like him in over a month, and this girl was single-handedly fending off two tall and decaying Freaks with a Pink Floyd song playing in the background.

It had to be his imagination. Right? 

Cassian could do little besides stand and stare as the girl spun around, pushing the end of her gun to a creature’s forehead- there was the echo of a gunshot that rattled his ears and made him flinch- and then she kicked the other one in the chest, hissing ferally, only to topple with it and onto the steps. Shots went off, all of which punctured holes in the walls, but then the human girl swore something filthy and he heard a sickening crack of bone as she swung the butt of her firearm into the Freak’s jaw. And again. And again.

His every instinct screamed at him to get away, told him he had lost it and he had to run away from this mad figment of imagination, but his physical self was too stunned to move.

He had never seen anything quite like it. Never once, even in his daytime musings for action scenes, on his notebooks or in the shows he liked to watch. The girl fought like she had nothing to lose, like she had a personal vendetta against the Freaks, and there was not one ounce of fear in her body.

The girl cried something hoarse before she finished the creature off with her bullets, and an animalistic screech tore out of its mouth for every shot before it finally stopped trashing.

She violently pulled away, pushing the decaying corpse off of her and down the stairs onto a pile of similarly rotting flesh, and he only then realised that the music had stopped.

The girl turned around and pointed her gun at him, finger an inch from the trigger. He threw his hands up on instinct.

The gesture caught her off guard and she stumbled back, breathing heavily, eyes wide.

“Don’t shoot,” he said, even if it felt stupid, like he was talking to something that wasn’t real. Because it wasn’t real. His head hurt, and he wished he knew if that was a side effect of finally losing your sanity. 

The girl opened her mouth to say something, her eyes stuck on his face, but no words came. She was still breathing heavily. Panting with the effort of her impossible fight. Face, neck, shirtfront soaked through with sweat and blood.

This was probably all in his head, because she also had a red plastic flower dangling precariously from her hair.

He swallowed, slowly lowering his hands. The gun was still pointed at him. Real or no, he decided to start with a fact that wouldn’t get him shot.

“I’m not infected.”

 

Cassian allowed for a torch to be shined into his pupils, even let the girl brusquely check his pulse for abnormalities. She still looked suspicious when she stepped back, but it didn’t escape him that she was the one who’d just tangled with a horde of Freaks. He held a hand out expectantly.

She stared at it, hostility and distrust in her eyes, as if his hand was about to start rotting and fall clean off at her feet.

Cassian cleared his throat. “I need to check you for infection.” 

The girl snarled, actually baring her teeth, and he reflexively raised his gun.

“You’re not checking me for anything.”

He lowered the gun, but only slightly, adapting an even but not altogether unfriendly tone. Here was a spooked rabbit, ready to bolt at a pin drop- he’d dealt with people in these situations before. Although, if Cassian was being entirely honest with himself, _he’d_ felt like the spooked rabbit merely seconds ago. The feeling hadn’t entirely fled him. His every nerve was on edge, like the girl’s- he hadn’t let her touch him without being prepared to strike, had she tried anything- but _he’d_ taken the chance.

“Trust goes both ways,” Cassian found himself saying, quoting the lead female from the second issue of his _Rebel Protocol_ series.  

Two heartbeats, and the girl turned from him to look over her shoulder instead, at the mess and the pungent pile stacked in the stairwell. Then, to his surprise, she turned her back completely on him and headed toward it, seemingly able to ignore the foul stench and the urgent aura of disease crawling along every direction. Cassian’s skin itched. She bent to pick up what looked like a black brick- no, not a brick. An ancient MP3 player. A warning to _look out, it could have Infected blood on it_ got stuck in his throat. When she turned back, however, he remembered that she wore thick leather gloves.

“You have any antiseptic? Alcohol?” she asked, the question posed pointedly.

Cassian lifted his chin, unmoved. “Not if I don’t know for sure that you aren’t infected.”

The girl rolled her eyes. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Fine. But can we get out of this dump? It’s not nice having any sort of examination done on you with those fuckers over their stinking up the place.”

He raised an eyebrow, but refrained from commenting. Then nodded, deciding the compromise was acceptable. “This way. You first.”

She looked like she wanted to protest- like consistent defiance was a key point of her attitude- before she just marched off ahead of him, allowing him to flank her with his gun pointed to her back. Surprising, but easier for them both. He slammed the door shut behind them at the top of the stairs.

“Wait here,” he ordered, heading for the cabinet that held a fire-extinguisher and an unworking mounted telephone. The glass was broken already, but the heavy canister was in. Tucking his gun back inside his holster (watching her from the corner of an eye), he proceeded to lift it from its cradle, biting back a grunt at the effort.

_Another gem from Kay. I owe you too much, old friend._

The girl watched in bemusement as he dragged the heavy canister across the floor, then opened the cream-coloured door halfway. Kicked it all the way open. Unclipped the extinguisher’s latch, told her to stand back, before spraying the walls and floor of the stairwell with foam. It was enough to completely coat the space between them and the corner behind which the Freaks’ corpses were, looking like some sad mischaracterisation of an artificial winter wonderland when he was done. Cassian shut the door and turned the lock on the handle before any of the foam spread to him. He dusted his hands before turning back to her.

“What was that?” she asked, with the careful tone of someone who didn’t want to get too familiar with a potential threat whose curiosity had gotten the better of them.

Cassian leaned against the door, drawing his firearm out again. It stil wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that she was Infected, and would change soon, becoming altogether more hostile. “One way of keeping the virus from becoming airborne. You’re welcome.”

A disturbed, disbelieving look flickered briefly across her face. “The virus can’t be airborne.” 

“Not the normal strain, yes,” he shrugged, patient. “But there’s a rare variant that’s been getting increasingly more common in recent months. Fortunately for us, it doesn’t carry far, or all that quickly, but you might want to avoid enclosed spaces with corpses.”

He held out his free hand expectantly. She snorted, but finally dropped the miniature flashlight into his palm. Like her, he was also wearing gloves, but in thick fabric, not leather. 

Her irises were green, and he noticed that they had irregular flecks of gold or hazel in them. Her pupils weren’t shrunk, though, like what happened to people who caught the virus, and the skin underneath her eyes appeared perfectly normal save for dark circles like his own.

He pressed his thumb to her wrist. The rapid double-beat that pointed towards infection didn’t come.

She pulled her hand back as soon as he was finished.

“I haven’t seen another actual human in these parts for a while,” she said, her tone of voice a little less hostile now. “Not even glimpses. Thought there couldn’t possibly be anyone left, considering how difficult getting by has been.” 

“We must’ve just missed each other. It’s not a small place.” Cassian gestured towards his door, at the far end of the floor. “It’s safer in there. I have some antiseptic. You need to to get that muck off of you.” 

The girl shrugged out of her jacket, which was stained with blood, hers or that of Freaks’, draping it over an arm. Gritting her teeth, she glanced down her shirtfront. Sweat and Infected blood mingled all the day down her front. 

Taking the hint, Cassian turned his back on her, pushing the door open while she pulled her shirt off over her head.

It was a plain kind of relief he felt, back in the safety of streaming daylight. He went to warn her about the wires, but it turned out he didn’t have to- the girl was clearly no stranger to a trip-wire alarm system, and she made it to the clear area without mishaps.

“I’ll get you a towel,” he informed without looking at her, ducking into the closed kitchenette. Cassian had already checked for water supply, hoping that there was one building in the city which the cut hadn’t affected, but it’d been a futile hope. The only place he’d come across any water at all was the river and the various stores that still had plastic bottles on their shelves. He snagged up as many bottles as his bag could fit on every visit. Water was a precious resource that this prison was fast running out of.

Still, the girl needed to get the blood off her skin, or she could fall sick. He picked two bottles from his collection of twenty-two, a square scrap of towel and his depleting flask of strong antiseptic liquid before heading out again. He rapped at the wall to ask permission to enter. 

There was a moment before she replied in affirmative. 

She was facing the wall, away from him, shirt discarded on the floor. The sight of her pale back, marred with angry, puckered scars and built with muscle that explained her physical strength from before, was enough to give him pause. The sight of her was strange, to say the least. He hadn’t envisioned getting to see another human being so soon, before he escaped the city walls if he ever managed it, and there was now one in the living room of his new sanctuary. An admittedly... _unexpected_ one at that- with a fighter’s physique and green eyes and a red plastic flower in her hair. He realized abruptly that she’d since pinned the flower firmly in place.  

Shaking the thoughts from his head- _this is your imagination, you’re losing it-_ he cleared his throat, first handing a bottle over to the girl. She accepted with a muted thanks, only angling halfway toward him, but when she noticed he was carrying a lot more she turned fully.

Cassian’s first instinct was to avert his eyes, although he still held the items out to her. She wordlessly picked them from his arms.

He walked back to the kitchenette, where was close enough to guarantee his awareness in case anything happened but out of sight to give her a shred of privacy. To his surprise, she started talking while she cleaned up.

“How long?” 

Cassian frowned. “What?”

“How long have you been on your own? Always had this place?”

He considered his reply. _How long_ wasn’t an easy question to answer- he had the number, a tally kept in his notebook, but whenever he looked at the first couple of marks his memory took him back to much different times. Before the tally, he’d been with a small group of people also left behind from the rushed evacuation of the city, who’d by now all been killed or infected. Even before that, he’d had Kay, and those weren’t a branch of memories he wanted to visit in the presence of a stranger.

“No,” he replied easily. “Believe it or not, I had just finished setting these alarms when I heard you. Would it be inappropriate to ask what the Pink Floyd was in aid of?”

He heard the girl snort. “ _Believe it or not_ , I’m not stupid enough to blast music at full volume and wander dark places. I was passing through the alley between these buildings and there were two Infected at the dead end. The door to those stairs was the only place I had left to go.”

“And the music?”

“The music was an accident.”

Cassian opened his mouth to ask for clarification, whether that was the default volume her player was set to and _why_ she carried around such a risky thing in the first place, but pressed his lips together on second thought. He’d heard stranger stories.

He cleared his throat. “Are you decent?”

“A minute.” 

He turned around the corner and walked back into the living room when she said he could come in. Again, she surprised him- with the towel wrapped around her torso and her bloodied bra discarded on the floor, she wasn’t exactly in a _decent_ state of dress, certainly not one to allow in front of a man she barely knew.

Her eyes were brazen, like the possible vulnerability of her position hadn’t even occurred to her. Cassian was _not_ that kind of man- he detested that kind- but she didn’t know that.  

The girl gestured to the bloody pile of her clothes matter-of-factly. “I’ll need to burn those, or give them the fire extinguisher treatment, apparently. Infection hazard.”

He was shaking his head before he knew it. “Their blood can’t transmit the virus unless it gets into direct contact with your own bloodstream. But while prolonged contact may not give you the virus itself, it’s certainly enough to make you sick, and weaken your immunity.”

She was now facing him squarely, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “How the hell do you know all of this?”

“I read a lot,” lied Cassian, nonplussed. “I’m surprised this is all new to you.”

“Bullshit.” The girl actually bared her teeth. “When the virus first broke out we didn’t know jack _shit_ about it. And we didn’t learn anything over the months other than the fact that it was a virus and it transmitted through spit and blood.”

“Not blood,” he said, patiently. “That assumption turned out to be false.”

“You're telling me they discovered more about a virus that threatened us all and didn’t release that information on a bigger scale?” The girl looked disbelieving. “I don’t know what _your_ sources are, but I kept up with everything the press had to say about it and I didn’t learn half the things you _read.”_   

“They discovered more, yes,” Cassian started, carefully. _My best friend worked on that program. He sacrificed his health and all his time learning about the virus and he learnt a lot. They have an entire database composed on its variants and theories for what might lead to a breakthrough cure._ “But the entire study of it was a highly classified event, and they did not publicly release information because it was ongoing research. They had to be sure before anything became public.” _But he made a different set of instructions, plainly composed information so anyone could understand, catered to survival in an environment overrun by the Infected should I find myself in one._

“Really, now? And you knew about this anyway because…?”

He closed his eyes. _Kay wanted me to live._ “I had a contact.”  

The girl exhaled through her nose, her shoulder relaxing minutely from their defensive stance. Maybe she saw it in his face- that said _contact_ was someone he immensely cared about- or decided that his explanation made sense and it really couldn’t get much more believable.

“I’ll take your word for it. My stuff is in the alley- do you think the Infected loot things, too?”

It took him an embarrassing amount of time to realise she was being sarcastic. Cassian snorted, letting it go. “Your stuff will be safe. Do you plan on going down now and getting it? Like that?”

She raised an eyebrow at him like _he_ was the one wearing a towel and trousers and nothing else. With a plastic flower in his hair. “Yes, genius, unless you have extra clothes in my size?”  

He tilted his chin towards the closed balcony, ignoring the jibe. “Take the external fire escape. Runs down the side of the building, it should get you to where you want.”

The girl brushed past him and to the glass door of the balcony, unlatching it and sliding it open in one swift move. She’d located the ladder and started climbing before he could even process what was happening. 

“Hey- wait!” 

Cassian dashed outside onto the balcony, staring up at the now empty handrails within his right that ended where the rooftop began, past the floor above them. She was fast. He began to climb as well, scarcely daring to believe that he wasn’t just imagining all of this.

The girl cut a determined path across the flat cement rooftop, and she was already headed down the external escape on the other side when he caught up. From the top of the building, he paused and watched her descend, as casually as if this were something she did everyday, and find herself getting down at the alley between their building and its immediate neighbour.

She knelt before a big, worn rucksack left abandoned in the middle of the alley with the familiarity one took with one’s own possessions. The girl, whoever she was, didn’t give a damn that he’d followed her up and had to be the vicinity, because she didn’t look around for him, only surveyed the alley for a Freaks, before extracting a shirt from the bag and pulling off the towel. She slipped on a black bra, reaching around to hook it, and Cassian only then managed to tear his eyes away. He wasn’t watching because he was some kind of _pervert,_ he’d been watching because he still didn’t have any idea what was going on and still feared for his sanity- that didn’t make him a pervert, did it? He should probably apologise anyway, but this was getting to be a _really_ confusing day and his head hurt.

The girl climbed back up faster than he was prepared for, the heavy rucksack secured around her shoulders. She was now dressed as earlier minus the blood, and her only reaction to him was a raised eyebrow. 

(It occurred to him, distantly, that the girl hadn’t been afraid earlier because she knew she could take him. She’d decimated a small group of Freaks with her own hands, for crying out loud. If he’d been that kind of man, she’d have taken care of him in a heartbeat.)

“I have so many questions,” muttered Cassian, pinching the space between between his eyes.

 

They sat facing each other on the opposite armchairs in the living room, the balcony closed up and front door locked, alarm system activated and in place. The building didn’t have working electricity- very few places did, but he was pretty sure power for the whole region had to be cut by this point. A fast-depleting candle burned on the low coffee table, providing a shred of illumination while the sun went down. It was almost a peaceful atmosphere.

The girl was studying him now, her eyes seemingly looking for loopholes. He didn’t blame her for not finding his story entirely believable, or not finding his very existence palpable, if she felt the same confusion about stumbling across another sentient being.

“You didn’t tell me your name,” she said, suddenly, yanking him from his thoughts.

Cassian breathed out steadily, the air coming in a cold puff. Warm as the fire made it, the fact was undeniable; the nights were getting colder as Autumn approached. “You didn’t tell me yours,” he pointed out. 

She crossed one leg over the other, for lack of anything else to do. She’d been nothing but brutal strength and raw energy since they’d met- he took a guess that she felt a tad bit restless now that there was no action to throw herself into.

“Fair enough,” she shrugged. Paused, thought twice about it, but decided _screw it._ She leaned forward, holding out a hand. “Jyn Erso.”

He felt a minute smile tug at the corner of his lips at her transparent decision-making process, but he schooled his features back into something more neutral. This was not the common strangers-and-first-impressions meetings of a lifetime ago; they lived in a vastly different setting now, one in which he wasn’t sure how relationships with other people worked. He wasn’t sure if the etiquette now was to smile politely or to keep a stiff, impersonal face.

He shook her hand. “Cassian Andor.”

The name _Erso_ sounded vaguely familiar, but he wasn’t certain if it was just his mind playing tricks on him. But the girl’s, Jyn’s, eyes widened fractionally at his introduction, and she pulled back- a calculating frown crossed her face.

“Are you a…” She paused, shaking her head as if to clear it. “Are you known for something? I think I’ve heard your name somewhere.”

It was Cassian’s turn to be surprised, then, not because someone had heard of him, but because he’d completely forgotten that someone _could have._ Considering his previous life, the small fame and fanbase he’d actually managed to gather, what felt like a very long time ago. He’d forgotten himself.

“That’s...well, yeah.” He composed himself, sitting back straighter, willing the conflict in his head not to show on his face. “I used to write graphic novels, and I sometimes did collabs with known artists, so that’s possible.”

But Jyn had buried her face in her hand, the lines of her body so tense they could snap. He blinked, confusion clouding his vision again, because _that_ didn’t make sense, just like most things right now didn’t make any sense, and fear gripped him like an iron catch.

 _I’m going insane. She’s not real. I’m seeing things._  

She cleared her throat loudly, slashing through his thoughts. He snatched the opportunity to come back from himself. Listen to the real world. Stubbornly assume that she was a part of it.

“I’m not- a fan,” Jyn said, shaking her head, and the tension in her shoulders was still there but it had dissipated a little. “But I’ve...I’ve read maybe one or two of your original works, and- my brother, he was- he was a big fan.”

Cassian exhaled shakily, relief flooding a big part of him, while the other half of him was struck with almost crippling sympathy. The girl mentioned her brother like it physically hurt to talk about him, and that- he could relate to that all too well.

“I’m sorry,” he got out anyway, quietly. The girl didn’t respond, merely cast her gaze across to the view from the balcony, where evening was blending into night.

“You’re trying to get past the Great Clusterfuck, too?” she asked, distantly.

“The great…” Cassian couldn’t help a bark of laughter when he realized what she was referring to. He looked back from around his chair, out at the darkening streets and the wall and the rubble hosting a colony of Freaks before it. “Yes. I am trying to- get past that.”

But Jyn didn’t seem to hear him, because her eyes narrowed then, and she slowly stood up from her chair. Never taking her gaze off the view from the balcony. Instinctively, he found himself following suite- she made her way to the glass, and he stood beside her, trying to make out what she found unusual-

She swallowed, the sound loud in the heavy space between them.

“It’s empty,” she said, hoarsely, disbelieving. “It’s empty.”

Cassian stared, not willing to believe it. She had to be mistaken. Surely, she had to be mistaken. 

But at the time where the Freaks nestled under the rubble usually crawled out to infest the surrounding streets and hunt for stray animals or decaying scraps, the streets were eerily still. Nothing stirred. They were entirely devoid of movement of any kind.

Jyn twisted open the latch and pushed aside the balcony door, stepping out for a closer look. He opened his mouth to warn against that, but no words came, and he stumbled onto the balcony after her. 

On the road below, a mangled-looking dog with waning fur trotted a carefree path. Cassian gripped the railing. These areas crowded over with Freaks at night, many from the Clusterfuck colony itself, making it a ridiculous idea to stay at ground level during the night. Whatever animals or rodents left in the city- stray cats, starved dogs, rats, squirrels- would be pounced on and devoured upon sight.

The dog halted in its tracks, ears perking up as if catching onto a sound- but it went back to its leisurely pace without more than a cautionary glance about. He and Jyn watched, dumbstruck, as the dog walked away and out of sight.

They waited for the inevitable, a loud howl of pain as the dog became prey for the Infected. 

It never came.

Cassian surveyed whatever he could with his eyes, delving into the shadows, into the dark alleys between buildings. Nothing moved. Aside from his heavy breathing and Jyn’s, the rest of the world was quiet.

After several heartbeats, she was the one to break the spell of silence. 

“I never thought I’d say it like this, but where the hell are they?”

 


	3. in memoriam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter looks way better on desktop than it does on mobile, but I did the best I could formatting it. 
> 
> Moodboards are from my tumblr, ~~the third one may be a spoiler oops.~~

 

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**Topic:** Rebel Protocol Series Issue #3

  
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The Rebel Protocol graphic novel series by Cassian Andor _(see also Willix, Aach, Fulcrum )_ follows the story of brothers Michael and Rodrigo, who in the first issue learn of a government conspiracy to exploit an otherworldly civilisation. They are swept into a tangle of events that they cannot control and forced into servitude with a team of expendable soldiers on a dangerous mission to the Other Dimension. But as more about their government’s agenda is revealed, the team of expendables go rogue and opt to work as double agents for both the government and the Other civilisation, in the interests of preventing a devastating war...

#####  **Reviews (54)**

_**@avengersgivemelife** (4.5/5 stars)_  
i fricking love this series!!1 everything about it is perfect, it’s soo massively underrated. it’s so original  & fantastic, also can we pls talk about how scary the Others’ pet griffins look? am i the only one?? anyway the panels are all so beautiful and dynamic, like theres not a single panel with a badly drawn character or half hearted background drawing, this guy is a perfectionist (and probs why these books are taking soooo long to come out but who cares! the result is worth it!). didn’t give it a whole 5 stars bc the cliffhanger made me wanna hit something. specially bc we won’t see the next one for like, 2 years!!

 _ **@CynicalPaperplane** (3/5 stars)_  
Although the level of quality in terms of the illustrations remains as high as ever, Issue #3 doesn’t deliver as much as #2 had us all thinking it would. This volume falls short of expectations for several reasons:

  * There is no resolution towards the end. While the first two novels were impressive as both parts of a series and as individual stories of their own, this volume leans more towards character development...and only that. There is very little in the way of new plot details pitched to us; it’s as if this entire volume is just a filler. That is not to say, however, that Andor doesn’t deliver on the aspect of character development. We only wish that he’d given as much story and action as inner monologue for Rodrigo and the brothers learning to appreciate one another.
  * The element of romance is absent. Seriously, where did it go? In the second issue we had a beautiful line of subtle buildup hinting at mutual feelings between Tahni and Michael, which was neither cheesy nor overtly obvious. Yes, Andor is obviously good at subtlety, but subtlety isn’t _invisibility._
  * If you’re not a major fan of Rodrigo, chances are you won’t enjoy this book a lot. His character works for me, definitely- the moral ambiguity is very gripping, and powerfully presented (again, without being obvious)- but there are a lot of people in this reader base who aren’t that fond of him, and it isn’t without justification either. Sometimes he’s a difficult character to like because of the bad judgement calls he makes, such as [view spoiler]



Overall, though, Issue #3 is a decent - if meaningless- contribution to a good series. It is unlikely that Andor will release the new volume within the next two years, so I doubt any of you are going to avoid reading this one. But if you can go two years without any Rebel Protocol, I highly suggest you skip it.

 

 

 

> _Replies to @CynicalPaperplane’s Review_
> 
> **@iambatman217:** um, yeah! Rodrigo is REALLY dislikable. He keeps being a jerk to miachel and everyone around him. Also, the symposium incident was completely his fault don’t @ me. Honestly I hated this issue all it does is try to make us feel sorry for the guy.
> 
> **@bodhitherook:** I wasn’t aware until right now that there was _anyone_ who didn’t like Rodrigo?? I mean, come on, guys. He’s a brilliantly written character and also there’s a reason he makes decisions like that. He had a really rough childhood bc of all the racists in his neighbourhood and their various foster homes and everything, give the guy a break. And the symposium thing was NOT his fault like how the heck was he supposed to know that would happen? Any rational human being would’ve done what he did in that situation. It’s realistic, not Rodrigo being a jerk.
> 
> **@iambatman217:** lmao that should be his catchphrase. “it’s realistic, not rodrgio being a jerk” lol except that he is a jerk, the series would be a million times better if he was someone else. honestly I just read it for thani and the hot priestesses. and the guns.
> 
> **@K-2SO:** Pardon the intrusion, but if I’m being honest I absolutely do not care for the opinion of someone who reads Rebel Protocol for ‘Thani and the hot priestesses.’
> 
> Although #3 was primarily focused on Rodrigo as a character, we can fairly say that up until this point both brothers were given the same amount of focus as individual characters. Michael saw a great deal of character development in the second volume, learning to handle situations with more maturity and diplomacy as the story progressed. Rodrigo’s flaws were ingrained in the fact that he approached everything with an impersonal, detached attitude that made him come off as cold and uncaring at the best of times, and this needed to change if he were to develop as a character in his own right. Hence we notice significant changes are prompted through the line of events in Issue #3 - which, I would like to point out to @CynicalPaperplane, accomplished enough in the way of plot to establish a base for future volumes, but more on that later. Contrary to @iambatman217’s observations, Rodrigo has always been supportive of Michael, and here is a list I’ve composed of thirteen instances in the first two volumes that prove this.
> 
> Am I neglecting to mention something? Oh yes, _Thani and the hot priestesses_. I am very surprised that anyone would read a series such as this merely for sexual appeal. Firstly, there are no sexual undertones to the themes of the story (it is about a government ploy to exploit the resources of an intelligent civilisation and the shaky relationship of two brothers, for crying out loud), and secondly, as @CynicalPaperplane correctly pointed out, even the element of romance is at a negligible level. The illustrations are not overtly sexualised, least of all the women or the priestesses you talk about, who have been portrayed in a manner that is far from conventionally sexual. Unless you find floor-length robes and practical attire like military slacks to be highly attractive, that is.
> 
> I will refrain from commenting on ‘ _and the guns.’_ Anyone who has read the series would know that it neither glorifies nor graphically portrays gun violence.
> 
> @CynicalPaperplane, #3 did not have a dramatic finale unlike the previous volumes, but it’s really only at first glance that it seems to ‘have no story’, as many complain. I have written an analysis on the finer details and just how much of an impact was set up for the upcoming volume, which you can find here.
> 
> **@bodhitherook:** Hey @K-2SO, thanks for the plot thing! You’re totally correct about stuff, it really is all in there!! Whelp, gotta go change my rating from 4.5 to 5 now. Someone tell Cassian Andor that he’s a freaking genius.
> 
> **@K-2SO:** You are welcome. I will inform him.
> 
> **@bodhitherook:** haha you’re really gonna twitter spam him for my sake? Thanks mate, much love!

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_Any inquiries for The Graphic Review? Send them here._

 

 

 

_Kay,_

 

_Today marks the fourth month anniversary of ~~the day I lost you~~ ~~**the day you**~~ your death, and I’m not entirely sure I can ~~make this work~~ finish the plan._

 

_This has been the second week since the city was evacuated ~~and there’s still no sign of~~ and I think it’ll be a while before they send in rescue teams. If they will at all. There seems to be complications outside the border that’s delaying them. I don’t know. We don’t know anything, over here, we can only try to live and hope for the best._

 

_I am so sorry I couldn’t get out of here. If I’d managed that then I could’ve got your files to the people who can help. ~~I was a fucking moron~~ ~~**I tried but it didn’t work out**~~ There was an outbreak scare at the gate I was waiting to leave from and they sealed off the area so there were a lot of people who didn’t event get a chance. Bunch of Freaks somehow managed to get in there. The riot officers opened fire on the crowd and everything kind of just went to hell. ~~I don’t know how I didn’t die.~~_

 

_There’s a group of people I’ve found myself with, some others who couldn’t evacuate with the city. About thirty people, though I’m sure they left behind more than that. We found a building with decent security features ( ~~that means a fence and cameras that are miraculously still working)~~ and a lot of open spaces with sunlight coming in. At any rate, we should outnumber any pack of Freaks that come at us._

 

_I’m not optimistic about rescue, but I think, logically, that it should happen someday. They know they left people behind. In this kind of situation there’s at least a lot of international pressure on the government to do something. ~~Just hope they’d hurry the hell up before more people get killed or infected.~~_

 

_Whatever comes up, I promise to try my best to get your research out of here. I won’t let you down if I have a say in it._

 

_~~If I don’t, I’ll see you on the other side.~~ _

 

 _your friend,_  

_Cassian._

 

 

 

 

_**Bodhi, I fucking miss you. I’m so sorry. It’s been five fucking days and I ~~can’t stop thinking about~~ can’t sleep or eat or anything. I hate this fucking place. Fuck everything. I can’t go on without you, it’s just impossible, I don’t know how I’ve lasted five days. And it feels like there’s really no reason I should go on, anyway. What’s waiting for me on the other side? Nothing. Even if I get out of this godforsaken hellhole I’ll have nothing. If I die here at least maybe I’ll see you again.** _

 

_**~~remember when you told me keeping a diary helped with feelings~~ ** _

 

 

 

_**~~I stand by my words Bodhs I’ll never keep a diary~~ ** _

 

 

 

_**~~this is a scrap of paper~~ ** _

 

_**~~god this is so stupid~~ ** _

 

 

 

 

_Kay._

 

_Today marks the sixth month anniversary ~~since you left~~ of your death, and I don’t have a group of people with me anymore._

 

_The first month after the evacuation wasn’t completely terrible, because there were thirty of us and a lot of security in those numbers. But those numbers reduced, people getting infected or people becoming prey to the Freaks and people taking their own lives because it was preferable to either of those, and then there were just seven of us, and then just me._

 

_I’ve been on my own for six weeks. Feels much longer than that if you ask me. It’s getting colder here. Winter is coming. Actually, Autumn, but I couldn’t resist. ~~remember when we used to watch game of thrones and you dissed everything that didn’t match the books~~_

 

_~~Those were simpler times~~ _

 

_~~When did this nightmare even~~ _

 

_I’m moving into a new place tomorrow morning. There’s a view of the wall from there. It’s as bright and spacious as apartments get. You’d like it._

 

_Still making a conscious effort to stay alive. If it doesn’t work, I’ll see you on the other side._

 

_your friend,_

_Cassian._

 

 


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